


from james with love

by somarisz



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, Protective Bucky Barnes, Slow Burn, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28697319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somarisz/pseuds/somarisz
Summary: Writing may be some kind of therapy. So James does exactly that: he writes down his feelings in a form of letters.
Relationships: James "Bucky Barnes/OFC, James "Bucky" Barnes x ofc, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 1





	from james with love

**Author's Note:**

> {English is obviously not my native language, so I may have made a few mistakes on the way, but hopefully it won't be too bad.}

_My Love,_

I’m not a writer, nor I ever become one. All those pages covered with dark ink never meant to be anything more than some kind of therapy, or so I’ve been told. One of my psychiatrists says – as basic as it sounds – that you shouldn’t keep emotions bottled up. I was exactly that; the Molotov cocktail of sorts. No timer, no safe switch. Pure bomb. 

~~ _I can imagine You’d laugh at that last sentence, poorly hiding it behind your hand. That’s so… You._ ~~

But I was, we both know I was. Probably, deep down, there’s still a part of me, Shuri couldn’t completely take away. That ruthless, emotionless assassin, able to destroy everything and anything on it’s way. I hope he’s buried so deep, no one can ever find him and wake him up again. I wish one day I could say, I don’t remember who the Winter Soldier was, but I’ll never be able to. He’s this ghost from the past, always hoovering above my head, leaving permanent mark on my present and future self. The insect inside my flesh; parasite, put inside me, which for such a long time was using my body only to spread destruction. So many lives taken away with my bare hands, yet still – you were able to see past that. Don’t know how you did it, most of people couldn’t stay in the same room as I, couldn’t look me in the eye, couldn’t talk to me. 

Back in the day, I attended one of those Stark’ shows. An Expo, I believe? Anyone you’d ask would say the same thing:  _it’s the future!_ How sad is it, that that future was almost destroyed thanks to those many futuristic discoveries? I was one of them, but I could line up so many others, that had the same or bigger impact to the history of Earth as we know it. One in a 14 000 605 shot to save the worlds.  How strange is that? We have to use plural for  _world, god, dimension_ . When I was a kid there was only one God and for all I know, he wasn’t wielding a hammer while traveling through space tunnels.

I drifted away, sorry. That was not supposed to be a story about The Battle of Earth, I’ve already written about that so many times, always finding a new perspective. And to think I’ve sent all of those shrinks to hell, when they first suggested that… That  _entry_ is meant to be different, meant to be mine and yours. Ours.

For me you were ( ~~ are? ~~ ) some kind of The Blip Paradox. You haven’t been erased by Thanos’ snap, and yet, I’ve only met you  _after. After_ Wakanda, _after_ The Battle of Earth, _after_ coming back and finally  _after_ some of us disappeared forever. I wish it was under different circumstances but fate had to have it’s funny way with us, didn’t it? Almost ironic, how someone’s endings are someone else’s beginnings.

It was too hot for an October day, too sunny for the occasion. You simply stood beside Steve and Clint, front row, just few feet from where the coffin was. Barely blinking, tenaciously staring in one point, not shredding a simple tear, not even over Barton’ speech. It was only when they were lowering the dark box with Natasha’s body, that you looked away and let yourself slip for a few seconds, before putting an emotionless mask back on. Oh, she  _ did _ train you well, ‘cause in that moment I was sure you were a woman I’ve heard about. Bits and pieces, not ever a full story, but enough to match a name to a face. 

_ Josephine Ashcraft _ . 

Your tight black suit and blank expression were right out of a Romanoff’ textbook. I was soon about to find out, you were her spitting image on many other issues, which shouldn’t come as surprising, as you were both her right and left hand after Thanos has snapped his fingers. And when she has sacrificed herself, not only you lost your mentor, but also a friend and – as some were saying – a lover. After the ceremony you vanished. I wasn’t sloppy with scanning the crowd – ~~_I don’t do_~~ ~~sloppy~~ ~~ _and I have more than a good eye for people, especially beautiful women_~~ – but I was sure: one second you were just there, squeezed under Steve’s arm, the next you weren’t. And to be honest? Nobody could blame you, it was your time to mourn. 

~~ Surprisingly, my own time for a grief was yet to come in a few days, when the true friend of mine left me in the world, he’d brought me to not so long time ago. Now I’m happy for him. Back then? Well... ~~

First time we talk was Tony Stark’s funeral. How cliché – another ending pushing us to the beginning. This time, even though you were no ghost, you looked like one. Your hair haven’t been done in a neat, low bun, elegant suit was exchanged for black, leather jacket and jeans in the same color. There were dark bags under your eyes, cheekbones more prominent than I remembered and your hands were shaking so bad I was sure the only thing keeping you up was endless supply of coffee. In that time I wasn’t sure how much of what you were doing you disclosed to your family – although from what I’ve gathered, you weren’t alone, so there should be someone holding you in that moment, someone you could turn to like to a safe house.

“Widows don’t cry” you whispered, sure we all went inside. 

“Luckily for you, you’re no widow. You may have trained with one and bested her at times, but remained safe from Red Room and old Russian methods. It’s a good thing. Staying human is a rarity this days.”

Your head snapped quickly and your puffy, red eyes met mine. That humorless chuckle you’d let out quickly became a thing, that most people have known you for  ~~ at least for some time ~~ .

“Maybe if I wasn’t one, they’d all be here today?”

“Maybe if you weren’t, the mass would be in your honour, not theirs. A loss is a loss, ma’am.”

You chuckled again.

“That’s thoughtful, Sergeant Barnes, but not all losses are equal and history can confirm that.” By that moment you almost put yourself together. Calm and collected, like a blooded agent should be. “But... it’s all for the bigger picture, right?”

I didn’t have response for that. After all – even though your voice was hinted with bitterness – you were right. Life of The Avengers, of each agent and each soldier, was constant fight for the greater good, for all of the humanity.

Then you left. This time saying proper goodbyes.

It was a mess back then. New reality was hard on everyone. The returnees couldn’t just be told to go back to their old lives – those who weren’t erased had to finally move on, so the sudden changed flipped their worlds into complete chaos. 

I think, for me, coming back from war would be like that? Maybe? I was a normal guy back then; had a life before joining – family, friends and a girl I couldn’t quite called mine. Not yet. Then army happened and everyone knows how it went sideways for me, but what if? If I somehow hadn’t fallen from the train? I’d fight alongside Steve and maybe – just maybe – I’d be lucky enough to survive this hell and come back home, to Brooklyn. After few years they would be happy to see me, my Ma would cry her eyes out and all of my sisters would do too, but we’d never be the same as before. They’ve had to find their ways to cope without me and keep up with their lives. Me? I’d have to try to fit in with my body and mind, scared by the brutal force of war. To live with the demons put inside of me, almost like I had to when I was brought back in present time. Again – the irony of life, right?

Months went by, and we all tried to adjust; to find something we could grab onto. Some kind of an anchor that would keep us sane. I… Without Steve I was… empty? Had this void inside of me, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to fill in. He was my safety net, my pal, my punk, my  _‘till the end of the line._ And suddenly there was  **none** . I’ve been lost, to put it simply, and, on your own way, so were you. I could have seen it in your eyes when you arrived to the New Avengers Facility. 

You were neither a myth, nor a legend. The Ashcraft name was known among agents in all of the organizations we worked with and it was not only by the association with famous Black Widow. You did good on your own.

“I won’t go on field” was the very first thing you’ve said when Fury got us together in a conference room. “I will  _not_ be substitute Avenger for Natasha. Not now, not ever.”

Then there was this big discussion about what is and what isn’t proper way to honour the dead and only when you’ve threaten to leave the initiative altogether, taking your knowledge and experience to private sector, Fury took up on your conditions.  _Thank God._ From that day you’ve became a regular. Tight schedule, even tighter lips. Like the idea of a talk, of making connections with anyone, was pure nonsense. “There is simply no point in oversharing. You guys know my opinion on cases we have and what kind of pizza I like. Isn’t that enough for a professional relationship?” So you were just always there; with your black coffee and intel so precise, there was almost non-existent chance of failure. Almost.

A year. After twelve months we were... colleagues? Maybe falling a bit to the _a friend from work_ category. But working closely with someone, hearing their voice in your ear while storming Hydra locations  ~~ or whatever fucked up organization we were fighting with  ~~ ~~ _at that time_ ~~ , makes you involuntary pick up on their antics. You were our guide more often than not and I’ve  **always** paid attention. So when next December came, I knew perfectly well if you had your coffee this morning before or after early training session; if that was one of “I’m okay, don’t ask me stupid questions or I’ll blow your head off” moods of yours or a bad day, filled with too many memories to comprehend. Still overly calm and distanced, but I was under the impression I knew you.

It all went to hell after Prague. The intel you’ve been gathering and verifying for over two months seemed bulletproof. We’ve checked it multiple times yet everything turned into ashes. Nothing was right. We got cut off in seconds after the arrival. We were not prepared for another out-of-this-world technology. Nobody could be, not even you. It took us some time, a week I believe?, but we got out and it was not without scratch.

“Fuck you, you stupid fucks!” 

“Hello to you too, Sunshine!”

“Don’t push it, you wingy motherfucker! And  _you_ ! Don’t even think I’m fuckin’ okay with you, shitass cyborg!”

You were the one who _so kindly_ greeted us on a quinjet. That was also one of a few times after you joined Avengers, I’ve actually seen you in full tactical gear. A sight for sore eyes – deadly, but oh so very welcomed. 

“Woah, easy there, tiger!” You’ve only squinted your eyes at me and next thing I saw was a barrel of a gun. 

“You are  **not** allowed to vanish like that again, Sergeant! If I ever lost a grip on you while in a field, I’ll find you and kill you myself! It applies to you both!”

And even though Sam and I completely outranked you, we said “Yes, Ma’am!” like you were a general. 

I think we were all surprised by your outburst. There was no remnant of Agent Ashcraft – cool-headed and distanced, trained by Black Widow. Right in front of us stood an angry woman and her anger seemed to be anchored in pure fear.  ~~ To this day I’m not certain if it was you or the jet that was shaking so bad while we were going up. And if it was you, you’d never admit that, right? ~~ You were holding your gun so tight, that if it was my hand, the clip would be crushed long ago.

“We are safe now, Josephine, so would you consider lowering your weapon?” I knew it was more bark than bite – you didn’t even pull the safety off – but situation has attracted too much attention already and curious stares weren’t helpful. 

“Shit. Fuck, yeah. I’m… yeah.” You looked ashamed of what you’ve done. “If you’re not going for a shot and shoot for a kill, don’t pull it out. Guess I’ve failed  _Guns 101,_ huh?”

There was no talking with you after that. You simply put it into your holster and went back to sit beside the pilot.

“I’m leaving at 1200 hours.” 

You announced it over morning briefing, like you’ve decided what color you’d like to have walls in your room painted. Calm, collected, steady. And I think I wasn’t even too surprised. Your coping mechanism was to find yourself an absolute hole in the other end of the world, go there and just… be. Reflect on things, reevaluate. 

“If that’s a payback for Prague…” 

“No, Sam” you chuckled. “I’m not that petty and honestly, I’m kinda disappointed, you’d think so low of me.”

“She  _laughs_ .”

“She’s in the same room, Wilson.”

Wanda only smiled at that exchange. If she was cool with what you were about to do, it couldn’t have been too bad. 

“Spill it, Agent Ashcraft, before Falcon can send our friendly soldier to question you about it.” Fury got up from his place but stopped in his tracks, like he got a thought to say just before leaving. “Don’t get yourself, or anyone on that matter, killed.”

“Jesus, Sunshine! Does it mean you’re getting  _back on track_ or completely  _off the wagon_ ?”

“Call me ‘Sunshine’ one more time and I’ll shove a wagon up your ass so far, it could see your tonsils.” Again, there was no bite to that bark. Your voice was… light, teasing. “It’s neither. But if you must know, and I think as a team you lots have a right to that, there would be a training op on The Islands, under Coulson. For the New Shield or however they’d decide to call themselves this time. There’s a lot of planning yet to be done, but I was offered to be puppet master slash big bad wolf on that one.”

That was the reason you were almost unstoppable at field and why you did your job so well with connecting intel and the actual plan of our operations. It was your thing, something you bested. Even though I’ve been trained to do the very same thing, it was always a mission. For you it could be entertainment.

“Intelligence would still be gathered and filtered by The Sixes, as usual. The only change is, they’ll give to Mr. Barnes, seeing he has the biggest experience on the subject.”

“And for how long should I be a substitute teacher for the class?”

“Hopefully long enough for me to have my fun with them and for you not to burn this place up.”

When noon came you were gone, leaving me with that weird feeling of emptiness all over again.


End file.
